She pulled one hand free, loosening the band so that the other hand slipped out easily. She twisted and tugged frantically, her lungs stifling for lack of oxygen. She felt herself rolling off the bed. She landed on the floor with a dull thud, staggered to her feet, and pulled the blanket upward inch by inch until her head was free. Drawing in a deep breath of air she sank down on the edge of the bed and looked around.
She was alone. The light was still on and the door closed. The band, that held her a prisoner in the blanket, was a wide red patent-leather belt with a large silver buckle. She unbuckled it with trembling hands, dropped it to the floor, and tossed the blanket over the foot of the bed.
Still trembling from shock and gasping for breath, she got up and started toward a wide chest of drawers above which a mirror hung. Her knees were weak, and she moved slowly. The top of the chest held only toilet articles. She started to open the top drawer when a key turning in the door startled her.
Lucy whirled and looked about wildly for a place to hide, but, before she could move, the door opened and a woman looked at her with wide, startled eyes. Behind her stood a young policeman, a head taller than the woman, who stared at her with wonder and curiosity.
Lucy Hamilton summoned all the presence of mind and knowledge gained as Michael Shayne’s secretary, and used one of his favorite tactics of leaping to the attack, instead of waiting to be attacked.
“Who are you?” she demanded, “and what are you doing in my room? Officer! Go after the man who just attacked me here in my room. Don’t stand there gawking.”
“A man?” Nora Carrol gasped. “In my room? I don’t see any man.” She shrank back against the officer. “What does she mean? This is my room. What is she doing here?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll find out,” he said. He caught Nora Carrol’s elbows, moved her aside, stepped forward, and confronted Lucy. “What’s this about a man attacking you?”
“Just what I said,” she answered vehemently. “I’d just come into my room — about three minutes ago — and turned on the light when a man leaped at me from behind the door and threw a blanket over my head. See it there on the bed all rumpled up? Then he threw me down and buckled that red belt around my arms. I had a terrible time freeing myself. You must have met him in the hallway!”
The patrolman looked at Lucy’s tousled hair, at the belt, and the blanket.